


Paper Moon

by TheCountessAkasha



Series: Paper Moon [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cussing, Drinking, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, alternating pov, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-19 01:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10629420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCountessAkasha/pseuds/TheCountessAkasha
Summary: Bucky and Steve end up at a venue that has a 40s night and meet an OFC, Melissa Rose, a singer in a local club. They both are smitten by her, and start to vie for her affections. They end up finding out more about themselves in the process.





	

**STEVE’S POV**

I found out about it first, snatching a flyer from the place as I went and got pizza for the two of us to share one Thursday night. Bucky was still sort of uncomfortable going outside of the tower for anything, even though he’d been out of his self imposed cryo and, according to T'challa, fully un-Winter Soldiered, for nearly two years.

Taking the outstretched paper from the woman in front of the small club on my walk back, pizza box in hand, I ask, “What do we have here?”

She smiled and I could see the glint of recognition in her eyes, but she was kind enough not to say anything. “Starting tomorrow we’re gonna have a 40s night here at Club Onyx. You should definitely come by, since I _know_ you’d enjoy the music.” She finished with a wink. “I’ve been singing the genre since high school. My grandparents taught me all the songs as I was growing up. I’m not really a trained musician, but it’s something I’ve been doing for a while, and people seem to really enjoy the music.”

Her voice rose into a small laugh, a comfortable one as she took in the near giddy expression on my face. A true, honest laugh at seeing me delighted in her words.

“This is great! I can’t wait to tell my friend about it.” I paused for a moment, taking her in, “So, your accent. Sounds vaguely like Brooklyn, but I can’t place it. You’re not from here are you?”

Once again, that lilting laughter rises from her and she shook her head, “Nah, I’m originally from down around New Orleans way, that’s where I got my start. I actually just moved up here a few weeks ago, on the advice of some friends. Needed a clean slate after a messy divorce…. “ her husky voice trailed off and she cast her eyes down a moment then waved her hand, looking back up to me. “So, here I am! Ready to wow the teeming masses of New York City with my talents.” That smile again. Big, open, genuine.

I’m pretty sure I was beaming at her like an idiot at this point, her green eyes sparkling as she spoke, and once I realized this I carefully folded the flyer and put it in my jacket pocket. “I… I, uh, have to get back to my place, my friend is waiting on this pizza, but you’ll see me, us, tomorrow night for sure.” I didn’t want to miss a chance at hearing her, nor a chance to drag Buck out of the tower for something I knew he’d love.

“Glad to hear it, Steve.” her lips curling into a knowing smirk as she turned to start handing out flyers once more.

I shook my head, smile still plastered across my face as I started to head back to the tower, then turned, “I didn’t catch your name!” I called out to her.

She shooed me off down the street with the back of her hand, chuckling, “It’s on the flyer.”

Reaching the tower, I head into the kitchen yelling for Bucky that I’d gotten the pizza, setting it down on the island. Everyone else was scarce tonight, each out doing their own thing so I decided we needed to just take a little time for ourselves. As I’m getting the plates out, Bucky silently makes his way into the kitchen just snagging a slice, folding it in half, and stuffing his face with it.

At the sound of a muffled “Thanks, pal. What took you so long?” I turn and roll my eyes putting the plates back, not bothering with them.

He glances down at the counter, spies the flyer for the club next to the pizza box and as he’s still chewing, says, “Hey man, what’s this?” barely getting the words out around the gobs of cheese he’s chomping on.

“Well, let’s hope you have better manners tomorrow, since we’re going to hit this place up and check out her show.” Bucky gives a groan and starts to shake his head when I cut him off, “We’re going. Just you and me. Read it.”

He lifts the paper off the counter, reading out loud having finally finished the first slice, “Club Onyx presents Melissa Rose performing for our inaugural 40s Night! Join us and experience this beautiful dame from New Orleans sing the songs we all know and love from the era of WWII. This Friday, 8pm, no cover, two drink minimum.”

I watch as Bucky narrows his eyes, studying the page for a little while longer, focusing on the picture of Melissa all dolled up in the familiar style of that time period, one we were both so used to _and frankly to this day miss_ his head tilted to the side like a puppy as if trying to examine her through the paper.

When he finally looks up at me, I’m beaming. Again. “I got the flyer from her. She’s amazing, Buck. Her accent, her voice, the way she was so easily talking to me even though she admitted she knew who I was. That’s what “took me so long”, I was talking to her. I really want to hear her sing. And I think you will, too. You know you’ll love it. Maybe you’ll find someone to dance with, you always were the ladies man, punk.“

“Jerk…” comes the mumbled, begrudging reply.

The next night, we get ready. Suits, ties, the whole nine. Having this time off from missions has been quite a good thing for the whole team and I’ve been thinking about the fact that Bucky doesn’t seem to really rest even after missions. Always training, always on edge. I’m not stupid, I know why. He still feels like an outsider though everyone in the tower has made it a priority not to make him feel as such. Not to mention he feels it’s necessary to make up for everything he did while he was the Winter Soldier. 

Worrying about Bucky’s personal choice to take every mission that comes his way only to merely isolate himself to the tower when he comes back has started to wear on me. _Missions. Tower. Missions. Tower. Rinse. Repeat._

 _He’s got to get out of this rut,_ I think to myself. And dragging him kicking and screaming to this 40’s night is a start.

**BUCKY’S POV**

You know how you always have that one friend that won’t let shit drop? Well, I have one. And of course it’s Steve. We’ve known each other since we were kids so nothing really ever gets past him, no matter how I try to hide it. I can pass pretty well with the others here in the tower, but not him. Not ever. And I’ve finally reached the point of just giving in and letting him try to get me back into the real world.

To be honest, I’ve been thinking about it for a while, I’d just never admit to him that he’s right. It’s been easier to do mission after mission after mission then hole myself up in the tower where nothing can really bother me. Except Sam, of course. _Little shit._ Regardless, even he has been adamant about me getting back out there. 

To be fair, it’s past time. The nightmares have for the most part become non existent, not to say I don’t still have them occasionally which always brings Steve running into my room to help me. I feel like I owe T’challa the world for having helped me as much as he did. I’ve been trying in my own way to make up for all the evil I wrought in this world, which is why I take so many missions. I don’t really like to show my face outside of the tower because, let’s be honest, people still associate me with The Winter Soldier and being confronted with something like that out on the streets alone…I don’t even want to think about it. _I know what I’ve done. I remember everything. I don’t need reminders._

When Steve showed up with that flyer for the little nightclub down the street, I wrinkled my nose. My first reaction was to groan and shake my head, then after reading over the piece of paper, and seeing the woman’s picture on it, let’s just say I changed my mind real quick. She was beautiful, even in this shitty little picture that’d been photocopied a hundred times I could tell that. I’ve always liked a woman who was a bit curvier than most, and the little smirk she seemed to wear in the picture instantly made me plaster on one of my own. Something about her expression, the tilt of the right corner of her lips, one eyebrow cocked like she knew a secret about you that you yourself didn’t know, hair all curled with those delightful finger waves that were so popular when we went off to war. And her eyes. Big, open, expressive.

She was trouble, I could see it as plain as day. I’m not so sure Steve realized that from his little talk with her _he was always a little clueless about those things_ , but her picture told me quite a bit.

I jab my finger at her picture, “That’s why you were late with the pizza, huh? I can see why. This girl is something else.” I watch as Steve turned several shades of pink in his cheeks and can’t help but laugh.

“Dammit, Buck, it’s not like that.” he counters, chuckling.

“Sure, sure.” I come back, rolling my eyes so hard they might as well have rolled right out of my head.

As the next evening arrives, we take our time getting ready. He insisted on us dressing for the occasion, suits Tony had forced us get for his own little soirées he just had to throw at least once a month. Steve looked dapper in his three piece classic navy suit, and as for myself? Black on black on black, of course. I had recently cut my hair, hoping it would take the recognition factor down about 1000 notches, but it still had enough length so as not to look military style, so I slicked it back from my forehead, putting the finishing touches on the evening’s look.

We meet at the elevator and he can tell I’m already starting to get nervous, shifting back and forth between each foot. “Buck, honestly. This is going to be fun. You’ll love it. Hell, you’ll love her. I’m telling you, man, she’s great. She’ll put you at ease in a heartbeat. She had me feeling so comfortable I wanted to spill my whole life story to her and I only spoke to her for a few minutes at most.”

He’s got that big fucking dopey grin on his face again and I cock an eyebrow in his direction wondering why he’s gushing about her. _He’s trying to ease me into this, I know. Make it easier for me to tag along and be among real living, thriving, everyday folk again. He’s been trying and I’ve been being the stubborn ass I am._

I give him a half smile and nod, “Ok, man. Ok. I give. I’m doing this for you and I’ll do my absolute best to enjoy myself, deal?” I clap him on the shoulder and he starts to laugh reaching over to pat my chest on my left pec, “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh dramatically, grinning at him as we step out of the tower and start walking the couple blocks to the club.

**MELISSA’S POV**

It’s official. The first night I’m performing in New York City. I can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s finally happening and I am more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. _Mon dieu, what the fuck have I gotten myself into?_

“Calm down, Melissa.” I say quietly to myself. “You’ve been doing this sort of thing since you were in high school. Singing in dark, smoke filled bars has been your weekend routine since you were sixteen. This is just a different city.“

One I’m hoping isn’t as stuffy and reserved as I’ve been lead to believe. It’s hard to think of any place being as easy and welcoming as New Orleans, but maybe that’s just my own bias. 

_People love music. Music is what brings people together. I’ve seen it enough times during my 40 years of life, people the world over need music to make their life complete,_ I think to myself.

 _So I’m not in my native environment anymore. So what? Perhaps that’s just what I need to clear my mind from all the shit I left behind._ And it was shit. I never should have gotten married to begin with, much less to someone so different from myself. And the horrid experience of the divorce and all it entailed, secrets dragged out for everyone to see.

“Well, shake it off and put your best black dress on because the club is filling up and you’re going to knock them for six when you open your mouth on that stage.” I mumble half out loud. It’s the only thing that clears your head.

I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t wishing for that nice slice of man I saw yesterday, the one the world adores of course, to show his face tonight. Imagine, Captain America himself coming to hear me belt out the songs he knows and loves so well, songs that probably bring him back home and center him, make him feel at ease in his skin. A man out of time, I’ve heard him called. I don’t envy him, but there’s no pity there either. He is what he is. He probably needs something like this for his own reasons as much as I do for mine. _I just hope I don’t disappoint him._ Again with the added pressure.

“Shit, Melissa. Stop doing that. You’re going to be great.” speaking in full voice to your reflection.

Getting back on track, I do my best understated smokey eye, applying the sinful red lipstick, making sure my black framed glasses are clean. _A girl’s gotta see after all._ Once that’s all done, it’s on to my hair, fingers working it into the waves and curls like my grandmother taught me, piling the dark tresses atop my head letting ringlets trail down.

Then the dress. The. Dress. The one you bought specifically for this opening night. The one that makes your pale skin nearly luminescent, and your freckles and tattoos for that matter pop. Strapless, form fitting, above the knee with a high slit up one side nearly to the hip, black satiny fabric, ruched in just the right places to highlight the curves I like and play down the ones I don’t. _Yes, I’m a curvy gal. No, not like the ones you always see touted as curvy. Fortunately, I have more than enough up top to match the caboose my family’s gene pool decided to grace me with._ At 5’4”, I stand a little taller in the kitten pumps I bought to match.

With one last look to make sure the lines on the backs of my stockings are straight, I take a huge deep breath to center myself before stepping out on the tiny stage that is mostly taken up by the piano gracing it. 


End file.
